Dog Star Rising
by little0bird
Summary: Bits and pieces of Sirius Black. Chapters most likely won't be in chronological order, but it shouldn't be too difficult to figure out when the events occur.
1. Many Moons

It was almost cruel, really, Sirius reflected as he drew his knees into his chest and wrapped his arms around them. One would think that the builders of Azkaban would have only put narrow slits in the wall for windows. Just to make the atmosphere even more dark and airless. Instead, the window was wide enough for him to see the sky. He could even see the moon at night.

It should make him happy, those glimpses of blue sky or pearl-bright moon. Even the low grey clouds that usually comprised the view weren't necessarily the end of of the world. Perhaps the builders of Azkaban had a deeper purpose in giving the inmates those tantalizing glimpses of freedom.

The view of the sky was one of the more depressing things in Sirius' current existence.

Tonight the moon was full. He could see it, the fat curve filling the window, luminescence blotting out the stars. Sirius hugged his knees a little tighter. _Remus_. He suffered terribly during his transition. Eleven years. One hundred thirty-two months. One hundred thirty-two full moons. One hundred thirty-two solitary transformations. He sometimes wished he hadn't talked James out of using him as their Secret-Keeper. If he hadn't, James and Lily might be alive right now. Sirius shook his head. He couldn't think about that. _Well, I could_ , he thought. The fewer happy memories he had, the better, but the roiling pain it brought threatened to choke him.

Sirius allowed his thoughts to drift. James, his eyes twinkling with infectious earnestness as he proposed they become Animagi, so Remus didn't have to suffer the full moon alone. The satiated glow on his face after spending a Saturday evening with Lily in an empty classroom. Lily's cautious words to support an hours-old Harry's head when she hesitantly shifted the sleeping baby to his godfather's arms. Lily laughing with delight as Harry took his first unsteady and unassisted steps. Thinking of James and Lily inevitably led him to the memory of their twin graves, side-by-side in the churchyard. James and Lily, of course, turned his mind to Harry. He wondered if Lily's bitch of a sister had taken in Harry, like Dumbledore intended. He hoped not. Sirius hoped someone like Molly Weasley had opened their home and heart to Harry. _He must be twelve years old by now_ , Sirius mused. _Second year at Hogwarts. I hope he plays Quidditch._ Sirius scowled slightly. _He'd better be in Gryffindor. Be a right shame if he ended up in Hufflepuff. Or worse, Slytherin._

Sirius unfolded himself and began to pace slowly around the cramped confines of his cell. He shouldn't have had to worry about Harry's whereabouts. He should be the one taking care of his godson. With a pang, Sirius pictured a miniature version of James, with his untidy black and Lily's green eyes. They would have lived in the country, in a cottage, with lots of room to breathe and be a proper family.

Sirius let himself imagine what might have been. Even though it was painful, he created scenarios in his mind. _What if…_ They weren't particularly distressing or wrenching, but sad enough to keep the Dementors at bay. None of the images were real, and didn't have quite the emotional impact as his real memories did. Harry learning to talk. Learning to ride a proper broom. Playing with Padfoot. Sitting at a scrubbed wooden table in a warm, bright kitchen, while Remus tutored the boy in Muggle subjects like reading or maths, then as he got older some of the basic spellwork Harry would do in his first year at school, using a stick for a wand. The Hogwarts letter. Going into Diagon Alley for Harry's things for Hogwarts. Going to King's Cross, darting through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. Sirius sank on the edge of the bed, gripping the rough wool blanket between his fingers.

An unhinged cackle echoed off the stone walls and intruded into his thoughts. Sirius glanced upward, with only a small hitch of his shoulder to betray his irritation. They'd confined him to a cell in the same area as Voldemort's supporters. Rather stupid, really, of the Ministry to keep them all relatively close together.

The first time he'd heard that demented laugh in Azkaban, it had so violently startled Sirius out of his pathetic reverie that he'd glanced wildly around his cell. That Bellatrix was insane had been the worst kept secret in the Black family. His aunt and uncle had quickly married her off as soon as she finished school to Rodolphus Lestrange, who wasn't exactly known for his mental stability himself, so she could be someone else's problem.

Sirius wondered tartly if Bellatrix had managed to keep her wits, such as they were, about her. The fact he could still think clearly was deeply rooted in his despair: he hadn't killed Peter Pettigrew. Rotting in Azkaban sent him into spirals of unrelenting depression. Dementors abhorred depression and despondency. There were days Sirius begged for death, just to end this miserable existence. But alas, Sirius' wishes had rarely come true.


	2. Padfoot Returns

Sirius stood on the landing and drank in the still-familiar scents. The boiled potatoes and cabbage from 4F. Furniture polish and artificial floral-scented cleanser from 3A. They hadn't changed in over fourteen years. He slowly climbed the stairs. 5B. Hid old flat. The one he'd bought with some of the gold his uncle Alphard had left him and shared with Remus when they left school. Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. _Paper. Buttered toast. Chocolate. No… Melted chocolate._ A reluctant grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. He could only detect those subtle aromas because he'd spent the bulk of the last year living as a dog. By next week, he wouldn't be able to pick the smell of a well-read book out of all the other competing scents.

He lifted a hand and lightly knocked on the door, feeling only slightly foolish. It was technically his flat, but in all fairness, he hadn't lived there since his arrest. The doorknob glowed faintly red and the door opened a mere crack. 'Moony,' Sirius rasped.

The door opened wider. Remus stood in the dim light, his wand in one hand, and a book dangling from the fingers of his other one. 'It's happened, hasn't, it?' Remus asked, as conversationally as if he'd asked Sirius if he wanted milk in his tea.

Sirius nodded. Remus always knew, without people having to tell him things. 'Dumbledore sent me to gather the old gang. What's left of it anyway.' He could feel himself sway slightly. He hadn't eaten for several hours, unable to swallow due to his anxiety over Harry and the Triwizard Tournament. Nor had he slept. Remus set the book down and reached through the door, grasping Sirius by the wrist. Remus dragged him into the flat and closed the door, casually jabbing his wand at it. 'It can wait until morning,' Remus murmured. 'You look done in.'

'You could say that,' Sirius said quietly. He stood uncertainly, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, painfully aware of the dirt and grime embedded in his skin and clothes.

Remus motioned toward the bathroom. 'Go and have a shower. You'll feel better. I might consider giving you some chocolate afterward.'

Sirius plucked at his ragged clothing. 'And wear what after?'

Remus perched on the arm of the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest. 'I packed all your things away after you were sent to Azkaban. Never had the heart to dispose of them. I'll fetch them up from the basement while you're in the shower.' Remus gave Sirius a gentle shove toward the bathroom. 'Go on.'

Sirius prodded the sofa. 'Is this as uncomfortable to sleep on as it was fifteen years ago?'

Remus snorted. 'Yes. Last time I fell asleep on it, I could barely walk for two days.'

'When was that?'

'Last Tuesday.' Remus pointed to the bathroom. 'Go. Shower. I'll bring up your things and make up the bed in your old bedroom.'

'The sofa is fine,' Sirius insisted. 'I probably won't be here long enough to justify making the bed,' he argued. He swallowed, forcing down the image of one of the last times he'd slept in that bed.

'Nonsense,' Remus said. Sirius squirmed under his friend's unrelenting gaze. 'When was the last time you slept in a real bed?'

'October,' Sirius muttered.

Remus shoved him lightly toward the bathroom. 'Have a wash, and when you're finished, you can put on something clean and have a nice cuppa.' He slipped out of the door of the flat, wand held lightly in his fingers.

Sirius shuffled into the bathroom, and twisted the taps in the bath, testing the temperature of the water with a hand, making it as hot as he could stand. He stripped, tossing his clothes into a corner and stepped into the bath.

He stood under the scalding spray for several long moments, reveling in the sensation of hot water sluicing over his skin. Sirius reached for the clean face cloth draped over the towel bar and generously lathered it. He scrubbed at the grime that seemed to be ingrained in his skin, even resorting to sitting on the floor of the tub to scour the soles of his feet. Washing his hair was yet another ordeal. He managed to finger-comb the worst of the tangles from his hair, then work the shampoo through it. Sirius had no idea how long he was in the shower, but his hands had gone wrinkly.

Sirius shut off the water and shoved the curtain aside. Two towels balanced on the edge of the sink. He roughly dried himself, and wrapped a towel around his waist, using the other to dry his hair. Sirius padded to the bedroom he'd once called his own, and paused on the threshold. True to his word, Remus had neatly made the bed, and Sirius' old school trunk sat in the corner of the room.

As Sirius drifted to the trunk, he trailed a hand over the footboard, hearing Gideon laughingly complain that the bed was much too small, before wrapping his arms around Sirius, spooning him. Sirius shook his head to dispel the wisp of memory as he flipped open the lid of his trunk. The clothing was on the older side, but Remus had packed them well. No damage from moths that he could see. Sirius grabbed a faded t-shirt and experimentally sniffed it. It smelled relatively clean, with no trace of mildew or something equally malodorous. Reaching in a bit further, he unearthed a pair of pants and an only somewhat ratty pair of pajama bottoms. 'Sorry there isn't anything a bit more stylish,' Remus remarked, as he peered around the doorframe. 'You were always a rather flamboyant dresser.'

Sirius shrugged and dropped the towel around his waist, reaching for the pants. 'It doesn't have holes or stink like Azkaban,' he said with an attempt at levity. As he donned each item of clothing, he felt a little more of the past several months falling away. 'Is there a comb in the trunk?'

Remus replied by tossing an object across the room, that Sirius snatched from mid-air. It proved to be the wooden comb he'd used in school. 'I can give you a trim later,' he offered. Sirius nodded and began to work the comb through his damp hair. 'I'll get some tea ready and you can fill me in on what's happened. I imagine there's work to do, if Dumbledore wants to reinstate the Order.'

'You could say that.' Sirius dug deeper into the trunk, his hand brushing against a bundle of knobbly wool and froze. _Not now_ , he told himself fiercely at the sudden prickle of tears and found a pair of socks. He drew them over his feet, then padded to the kitchen table. He took the chair Remus indicated, reaching for the steaming mug of tea, bringing it to his mouth with both hands. Remus had been generous with the sugar, and Sirius was grateful for the sweet warmth of the tea. It made the next thing he said somewhat easier to bear. 'We'll have to go to Grimmauld Place.'

Remus paused, a butter knife suspended over a stack of toast. 'Surely not.'

'It's perfect,' Sirius said miserably. 'Muggle-Repelling charms, Unplottable. Every damn charm known to wizardkind. The Order can operate safely there.'

'But what about you?' Remus inquired, handing a plate of toast to Sirius.

'I'll be fine,' Sirius said with more conviction than he felt.

'We don't even have to suggest it,' Remus argued.

'We do,' Sirius insisted. 'Any issues I might have about my childhood home are irrelevant. The greater good and all that tosh.' He shrugged, taking a bite of toast. 'Besides,' he continued once he'd swallowed it, 'Harry can come live with me there. And when my name is cleared, we'll live somewhere else. The Lake District, perhaps…' Sirius trailed off, munching his toast, lost in thought.

'If you'll just allow me…' Remus indicated the towel in one hand and the scissors in the other. Sirius dropped his toast and pushed his chair back. Remus wrapped the towel around Sirius's shoulders and drew a comb through Sirius' damp hair. 'How short would you like it?'

'Here.' Sirius slashed a hand in the air just over his shoulders.

Remus made quick work of Sirius' hair, Vanishing the grey-streaked locks scattered over the floor. 'And now, I think it's high time we both went to bed. 'It's going to be a long day tomorrow.' Sirius drained the tea in his mug and got to his feet, trailing after Remus.

Remus paused at the threshold of Sirius' bedroom. 'Sleep well, old friend,' he said, slapping Sirius on the shoulder.

'And you as well.' Sirius waited until Remus had gone and closed the door. He pawed through the trunk, until he found the bundle of wool. He froze momentarily, then slowly drew out a dark blue jumper, quite at odds with the style of the other clothes in the trunk. Sirius pressed it to his face, his hands trembling. He fancied he could still smell the aroma of Gideon's bay rum soap in the fibers. Sirius sank to the edge of the bed, clutching it to his chest. He quite clearly remembered pulling it over Gideon's head, and flinging it to the floor. Gideon reluctantly sliding from the warmth of Sirius' bed, smoothing the tumbled hair from Sirius' eyes, a soft kiss. A half-hearted, fumbling search for the jumper in the gloaming of dawn before Gideon gave up. A murmured admonition to find the bloody thing, please - it was his newest Christmas jumper from Molly. She'd go spare if something happened to it.

He'd died just a few hours later, brutally attacked by five Death Eaters.

Sirius could never bring himself to return the jumper to Molly.


	3. Runaway

AN: Warning for physical abuse

XxXxXxX

Sirius opened his eyes. The ornate weave of the carpet swam into focus under his nose. He gingerly shifted and inched his way onto all fours. The backs of his legs and buttocks burned. He stifled a groan, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Sirius unfastened his trousers and eased them down, taking care to not let the fabric touch his skin. He whimpered when he tried to slide his pants down to his ankles, and the waistband brushed over a particularly sore spot on his bottom. Sirius gripped the edge of his desk and stepped out of his clothing, and then shuffled to the heavy cheval mirror in the corner and turned around to examine the extent of the damage.

The belt buckle had broken the skin in a few places, but he thankfully wasn't bleeding. Welts criss crossed his buttocks, so red they nearly glowed in the gloomy light. Sirius reached back and lightly traced the beginnings of a bruise that had already begun to turn a dusky purple.

Sirius scrubbed his hands over his face, smearing tears across his cheeks. He'd been afraid they were going to kill him this time. Fortunately for him, their arms wore out well before their resolve. Sirius opened a drawer in the desk and removed a small tin of powdered bitterroot and sprinkled it over the worst of the welts. It wouldn't heal the wounds, but it would deaden the pain long enough for him to make his way somewhere safe. His shoulders slumped as the herb took effect. Sirius dug clean pants and trousers from his wardrobe and slowly pulled them on, plans spinning wildly in his head.

He could go to the Leaky Cauldron. It wasn't that far. But he was underage, and they'd never rent him a room for a few nights. They did have a Floo connection. He could easily Floo to most wizarding communities, because the always had a small pub where one could Floo in or out. He'd never be able to Floo from the house. Sirius reckoned his father had disconnected the Floo here due to his paranoia anyway. He could go to Prongsie's house. Mr. and Mrs. Potter were good people, and they'd give him shelter if he asked.

Sirius risked casting a charm to shrink his school trunk. Living in a magical household gave him enough cover that it wouldn't trigger the Trace.

Once Sirius had managed to don socks and shoes, there was nothing more to do but stuff his trunk into his knapsack and creep down the stairs. He stealthily opened the front door, and slipped through the smallest possible crack. He walked away, and didn't look back.

The Leaky Cauldron was crowded enough that no one remarked on his presence. He dropped a few Knuts into a jar that dispensed a handful of Floo powder from a small spout. He quickly threw the powder into the flames and nearly ran into the fireplace, wincing as his knapsack bumped against a bruise on his back.

The pub in Ilkley was quiet, and more than one person glanced up from their drink and stared at Sirius with frank curiosity. He ducked his head and hurried from the pub, sketching a nod at the patrons, heading for the road that led to a valley nestled in the woods.

Sirius trudged up the lane to the Potters' house - three stories of red brick, with white-framed windows marching across the face of the house in orderly rows. Sirius wondered if Roderick and Eleanor Potter had intended to fill the house with offspring, but they only had James. Sirius veered off the gravel drive and rounded the corner of the house, and made his way to the back of the house and the kitchen. The Potters tended to adhere to mealtimes of an earlier era, sitting down to dinner at eight. They also eschewed conventions of their wealth and status and ate in the kitchen.

Sirius rapped lightly on the door. 'Come in!' Eleanor called. The door swung open and Sirius sidled in. Eleanor beamed at him. 'Have you eaten dinner?' she asked. Sirius shook his head. Eleanor waved her wand at the old-fashioned dresser and a place setting floated to the table. 'Sit yourself down.' Sirius gulped and carefully repositioned the seat cushion on the chair and carefully perched on the edge, trying to keep as much of his body off the chair as possible. James turned to him, brow furrowed with questions, but Sirius shook his head. James shrugged and spooned peas onto Sirius' plate. Sirius tried to eat more than a few mouthfuls of his dinner, but his stomach still roiled from earlier. He moved food around his plate, murmuring responses to questions and comments from Eleanor and Roderick. He dutifully attempted the pudding, and to his eternal relief, Eleanor began to clear the table. 'Jamie, why don't you go and make up the bed in the room next to yours?' Eleanor suggested. Sirius managed a wan snicker at the use of James' nickname.

Eleanor indicated the knapsack Sirius had left next to the door. 'Did you bring anything else?'

'My school trunk is in it,' Sirius said. 'So just my things for school.'

'I see.'

'I can go stay with my uncle Alphard, but I'll need to send an owl first,' Sirius blurted.

'You'll stay with us until school begins, young man,' Eleanor said sternly. She patted him firmly on the back, and Sirius yelped as she inadvertently hit the bruise. Eleanor grabbed the back of Sirius' shirt and tugged the collar aside. She made a small noise in the back of her throat. 'Is that the only one?'

Sirius shook his head.

'Where else?'

'Backs of my legs,' Sirius murmured, feeling his face erupt into flames.

'Where?'

Sirius looked out of the window. 'Bum to ankles,' he said shortly.

'Go upstairs. I'll bring some salve up.'

Sirius eased himself to his feet and grabbed his knapsack. He limped up the stairs, which felt interminable today. He walked into the room next to James' and dropped his knapsack. Eleanor knocked on the doorframe. She held out a small jar with bright green paste. 'It won't make the bruises go away completely, but it will help.'

'Thanks,' Sirius took the jar from her and pried off the lid, lifting it to his nose.

'It's just aloe, calendula, camomile, and arnica,' Eleanor told him. 'Three times a day.'

Sirius nodded, and Eleanor closed the door. He stiffly stripped and began to gingerly rub the salve into his skin.

'Hey, Padfoot, Mum said you…' James barrelled through the door of the bathroom that connected their bedrooms. He came to a stop, a set of pajamas clutched in his hands. 'Didn't bring pajamas.' James pressed his lips into a thin line. 'What happened to you?'

'My father,' Sirius told him, stepping into his pants. He snatched the pajamas from James and pulled the bottoms on, then presented his back to James. 'Could you put this on?'

'Why did your father hit you?' James asked, taking the jar and scooping up a dollop of paste. He spread it over the bruise.

Sirius shrugged with the other shoulder. 'The usual,' he muttered. The usual encompassed everything from being Sorted into Gryffindor, his refusal to take down the pictures of Muggle motorbikes, not being Regulus, insubordination. The usual now included his preference for men. Sirius didn't know how his father knew. It might have been a gesture or stance that Orion Black considered effete. Or he'd found Sirius' stash of magazines. Or someone had seen Sirius at one of the clubs. It wasn't the first time this summer Orion had beaten Sirius. Nor was it the first time that Orion had beaten Sirius, vowing to beat the perversion out of him.

'I'm sorry.' James set the jar on the night table.

Sirius slid the pajama top over his arms. 'I'm seventeen in October. I'll be of age and they can't make me do anything.' He padded to the bed and crawled into it. 'If I never have to go back to Grimmauld Place, it'll be too soon,' he sighed, before closing his eyes.


	4. Full Moon

Sirius slammed his Potions book closed. 'How much do you want to bet Snivellus wrote two feet of parchment in infinitesimally tiny writing?'

'I'm not taking that bet,' James murmured. He idly turned pages in a small pocket-sized calendar, marking a small X in what seemed like random squares. 'He did three feet last weekend for Defense.' He chewed on the end of his quill, frowning. 'C'mon. Let's go.'

'Go where?'

James stuffed the calendar in his pocket. 'We need to talk.' He threw a glance at Peter. ' _Alone_ ,' he mouthed. James crammed his books into his bag.

' _What about Remus?'_ Sirius mouthed, tilting his head toward the skinny, pale boy, curled into an armchair, sound asleep.

James shook his head. 'Let him sleep,' he murmured, carefully keeping his face turned away from Peter. 'I'll go first. Wait a bit, yeah? And leave your things. I'll be in our dormitory.' He darted through the common room, distractedly saying something about needing the loo.

Sirius pulled an afghan from the back of one of the sofas and tucked it around Remus. _Those trips home to see his mother aren't very restful_. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the thick bandage under Remus' shirt collar. _Shite…_

Sirius wound his way through the students doing homework, chatting, playing chess or Gobstones and slipped up the stairs to their dormitory. Sirius was privately relieved James hadn't wanted Peter around. There was something about him that Sirius couldn't quite put his finger on, but Peter often rubbed Sirius the wrong way. Sirius struggled to refrain from smacking the other boy, but Merlin's holey Y-fronts… Peter was just gagging to be liked. Always trying to ingratiate himself into his and James' good graces. James wasn't very fond of Peter, either, but he didn't want to hurt his feelings. What was the harm, James reasoned, in letting Peter tag along?

When Sirius entered their dormitory, James shoved the calendar into his face. 'Notice anything?' Sirius took the calendar and flipped through the pages. Every month had a red X in a square, with the words "full moon" scrawled across the square. 'Every X is a day that Remus supposedly went to visit his sick mum.'

'You think he didn't see his mother?'

'You think he just left Hogwarts on a random Wednesday afternoon?' James whispered, his face near Sirius', eyes wide.

'Not really.'

'Every full moon. The next day he's worn out. A bit battered around the edges -'

'That's an understatement,' SIrius interjected.

James drew in a breath. 'I think he's a werewolf…'

Sirius felt the urge to laugh. 'Go on,' he scoffed.

'I'm serious!' James protested, lugging his Defense textbook to Sirius' bed. 'Look!' He opened the book. 'Page three hundred and ninety-four.' Sirius scanned the pages, and James continued. 'I sent an owl to Dad. He remembered that werewolf Fenrir Greyback bit a kid. That kid was four years old. And the kid would be in their third year at Hogwarts today. And the _only_ reason Dad remembers it is because Greyback bit a _kid_.' James jabbed his index finger at a paragraph. 'Kids generally don't survive a werewolf bite.'

'I don't know,' Sirius sighed. 'It's a coincidence, isn't it?'

James gestured to the calendar. 'One or two months is a coincidence,' he insisted. 'But _every_ month for _three_ years?'

'What are you two plotting this time?' James and Sirius jumped, the calendar falling to the floor, both of them gaping at Remus, standing sleepily in the doorway. 'What? Do I have a giant bogey in my nose?' Remus swiped the back of his hand under his nose.

James exchanged a look with Sirius. It was Sirius who grasped Remus by the elbow and drew him into the room, closing the door behind them. 'Where's Peter?' Sirius asked.

'Left his Herbology homework in the library.' Remus glanced at James' textbook, still open to the page on werewolves. 'Doing some light reading before bed?' he asked lightly, but Sirius noted his already pale face paled a bit more.

'Our friend James here has a barmy, crackpot theory that you're that kid who was bitten by Fenrir Greyback about ten years ago,' Sirius said. He was wholly unprepared for what happened next.

Remus shuddered and bit back a sob. He covered his face with his hands and began to weep uncontrollably. Driven by an impulse he didn't quite understand, Sirius carefully wound an arm around Remus' waist, murmuring gently, 'Come on, mate…' He led Remus to his bed and urged the other boy to sit next to him.

Remus scrabbled in his shirtsleeve for a handkerchief. He briskly blew his nose and wiped his eyes. 'How did you guess?'

James sank onto the mattress on Remus' other side. 'I kept track, and noticed a pattern. Asked my dad a few questions.'

'And you look like shite,' Sirius added, with a chuckle.

'Sod you,' Remus shot back wearily.

'So if you don't see your mum every month, where do you go?' James asked, frowning.

'Shrieking Shack. Madam Pomfrey takes me there before the moon comes out. There's a secret passage from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack. There aren't any doors or windows to get in or out of it. There are, of course, doors and windows, but it's a stout building.'

'And this?' Sirius lightly ran his his fingertips over the large bandage that ran from Remus' shoulder to the opposite hip.

'The werewolf wants to bite… maim… but there aren't any people, so…' Remus shrugged a skinny shoulder.

'It hurts you,' Sirius said, resting his head against Remus',

'Yeah.'

Sirius met James' eyes over the top of Remus bowed head. James nodded once.


	5. Apologies

'Are you sure you're all right? I'll get Molly to come round,' Fabian said.

'I'm fine. Just a little tired. Go on. I'll make myself some tea and go to my virtuously empty bed.' Gideon slowly lowered himself into a chair. 'I'll even use magic.'

'I'll be home before midnight.'

'Stop hovering,' Gideon said between clenched teeth. 'And go before I hex you.'

Fabian glanced at his watch. 'I'll be home in a few hours,' he said. 'I just have something…' He cut himself off and swallowed hard.

'Going to see _her_?' Gideon asked.

'If I say nothing, you will have nothing to say,' Fabian reminded Gideon softly, tugging his jacket over his arms. He slipped out of the door, leaving Gideon alone in blessed silence.

A soft scratching sound made Gideon replace the cup in its saucer. He heaved himself to his feet, wincing at the twinge of pain along the newly healed scars along his side. He pointed his wand at the door. ' _Homenum revelio_ ,' he muttered. The back door of the cottage remained the usual burgundy hue. Gideon limped to the door, and pressed his back to it. He eased it open a mere crack, his wand aloft. Sad, pathetic whining met his ears and Gideon glanced down at the wet, black nose that nudged through the crack. Pale eyes, most undog-like, peered up at him. Gideon stepped back and opened the door just large enough for the Scottish deerhound to squeeze through. Once safely inside, the dog lay on the floor, his muzzle resting mournfully on his paws. Gideon closed and locked the door. 'Care for a cup of tea?' The dog whined in reply. Gideon slowly got to his knees, using the dresser to keep himself from falling over. 'It wasn't your fault. I know what Fabian told you. I am a grown man. If I thought it was a horrible idea, I would have said so.' Gideon gently stroked the dog's head. 'Come on, love. I've got plenty of tea and biscuits. Or I could cobble together some sandwiches, if you're hungry.'

The dog lifted his head and before Gideon could blink, Sirius crouched on his hands and knees next to him. 'I'm so sorry,' Sirius whispered. Gideon cupped Sirius' face in one hand, thumb brushing over the thin pink lines of freshly healed cuts and scrapes. 'You didn't escape unscathed, either, lad,' Gideon remarked. He started to rise, and couldn't suppress a grunt of pain. Sirius scrambled to his feet, and offered his hands to Gideon. 'You should be in bed,' Sirius told him.

'Not you, too,' Gideon protested. He made his way to the table and sat heavily in the chair. 'Want some tea?' Sirius nodded and sat in the chair opposite Gideon. Gideon poured a cup for Sirius and pushed it across the table, studying the younger man's face. 'I'll go to bed if you do, too. You look like hell.' When Sirius looked askance, Gideon chuckled. 'To sleep, you randy git. It is possible to lie in bed with one's lover and do something besides fuck them.' Gideon sipped his tea. 'You've a dirty mind.'

'And you don't?' Sirius retorted, with a bit of his usual cheekiness.

'I hide it better,' Gideon said blandly. 'Advantage of my advanced age and maturity.' Sirius choked on a biscuit and gulped his tea to clear the crumbs from his throat. 'Advanced maturity, my arse,' Sirius muttered.

'Oh, God…'

Even though he'd barely made a sound, it seemed to Sirius that his words echoed around the clearing.

Bright red hair against the crushed grass. Bright brown eyes that had danced in laughter only the night before were dull, staring sightlessly at the grey sky above.

Sirius barely noted the patrician blonde woman, weeping hoarsely over Fabian's body. His entire being was consumed by the fact Gideon was gone.

Training beaten into him at an early age took over. He schooled his features into a neutral mask, woodenly conjuring a stretcher, maneuvering Gideon's body onto it. He then swept his wand over Gideon, covering him with a blanket. Sirius knelt and gently closed Gideon's eyes, then drew the edge of the blanket over his face.


End file.
